Chapter: Cassandra MGhmoys4
by sannah
Summary: what happened betwenn Methos and Cassandra?


CHAPTER: CASSANDRA ---------------------------------- ---------------------------------- by Sannah  
  
sequel to "Adam Pierson is dead, "Scion" and "Whatever is necessary"  
  
fourth in my "May God have mercy on your soul"-Series  
  
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"Oh, come on, Highlander. You're not going to kill me, are you?!" Methos tried to ignore the metal that cut into his skin, but it didn't work very well. And somehow he knew what was coming next... "Well." The Scot answered. "Let me think about it." It took him not a second before he continued. And his eyes were cold like ice. There was nothing left than: "Yeah, I'm definitely going to kill you!" 'Shit!' MacLeod couldn't mean it. Fine, he had killed one of the most important persons in Duncan's life. But he had no other choice! She was after his head... "Unless you come up with a real good explanation on what happened then. So, I'm listening!" MacLeod, fair as ever, gave him a chance. 'Lucky old man!' Methos thought. 'Pity that you can't take it...' "You know, I don't have any." He finally said, sure it would probably be the last time he spoke. And with closed eyes he waited for the final stroke. 'At least it's him who takes my quickening. He deserves it.' It didn't convince him totally to give up his principles, but it made the whole thing easier. Well, he hoped it would do. "You're choice. May your Gods have mercy on your soul. Mine will not..." MacLeod swung the sword and the sudden breeze of cold air made Methos shiver. 'Bloody hell, I don't want to die! I always survive.' "Wait!" He yelled, not forgetting to put a plea in his tone. And as expected the Scot stopped the blade short before it could cause serious damage. If Methos had learned one thing during his life it was how to stop people from killing him. And knowing Duncan MacLeod better than he himself he was sure it would work. "What, Methos? You're begging for you life?" "Yes." It was only a whisper. "Sorry, I didn't get it. Are you begging for your life?" MacLeod intensified the pressure. A bit more and the sword would vanish into the flesh of Methos' throat. "Yes! Yes! Yesss!!!" It seemed like eternity until he felt how the sword was slowly drawn back. And with it also MacLeod went away, not looking back, not saying a word. Methos wrestled with himself for what to do now. Although this encounter hadn't been very pleasant, but instead life dangerous, he had the strange feeling of longing for the other man's presence. He had truly missed him, for he had been the only Immortal in a very, very long time he had trusted blindly - and who had trusted him. And he had betrayed him. Even if it hadn't been deliberately... No, he couldn't let him go like this. Not this time.  
  
"Duncan...! I... I'm sorry." Duncan slowly stopped walking when he heard Methos call him by his barely used first name. It didn't sound like the Immortal he knew at all. But he had heard this tone on him before at a day he didn't want to remember any more. Actually it had been the same words, that were used...  
  
..."I'm sorry." MacLeod stared surprised at Methos, who was about to leave the barge, a bag in his right hand. Duncan was sure there had happened something, but he had just got back from a trip and found Methos in this very strange condition, not knowing were it came from. And now he only said 'sorry' and went away. And left him with questions. "Methos?!" He got no reaction. Duncan ran after him, but as soon as he reached the door, the other Immortal had already started his car. He switched on the lights and before Duncan could get to him he drove away with squeaking wheels. Whatever it was what Methos was running from, it had to be serious. Sure, he had vanished several times before, staying away for weeks or months. But he had always said goodbye, at least he had mentioned his intentions in some way. He hadn't this time. MacLeod went slowly and confused back inside the barge. He had just sat down on the couch when the door opened again and Joe appeared. He looked terrible, depressed, almost sick. "Joe! What's up?" Something was wrong, he could tell by the way the Watcher behaved. They hadn't seen each other for more than three weeks. Normally Joe would have embraced him and then stand a round of beer. But today he just stood there, even not daring to look at him. Finally he said: "I'm sorry it's me you hear it from. Maybe..." He paused, swallowing hard. "What, Joe? If it's about Methos, I've seen him once more before he left. It's two minutes ago. You probably have seen him, too. But I don't know why he's gone. Do you?" "Yes. And you won't like it. I've waited until I was sure he's gone. Duncan, listen, he..." Another pause, this time the silence was ominous. "Joe?! Tell me, he... what?" He grabbed the other man's arm hard and shook him. But the Watcher didn't move. Only his gaze met Duncan's eyes. It was sad and full of sympathy. And Duncan suddenly felt cold. Joe took a deep breath and cleared his throat before he said: "Methos killed Cassandra..."  
  
...'I'm sorry.' But this time it was MacLeod who went away. He truly had wanted revenge. He had wanted to kill Methos like he had killed Cassandra. But he couldn't do it. He should have known. Duncan felt that Methos followed him. And somehow it made him smile. But it vanished quickly when he heard him talking: "I never intended to kill her. I once loved her!" - 'Liar!' - "She surely would have taken my head. I had no choice!" MacLeod turned around, raising his sword again. "You always have!"  
  
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At the same time Chiara collapsed on the floor, being drawn into a vision again...  
  
...The man she knew now as O'Coerky, but before as Adam Pierson, walked down a narrow street. It was late after dusk and there were only few people left outside. It must have been cold, 'cause Pierson tried to warm his hands with his breath and rubbed them together. His breath left clouds of white haze that stood in the air. And he pulled his coat even tighter around him. Suddenly he stopped and looked around as if searching for something. And with it he drew his sword. "Whoever you are, I'm not ambitious to fight you." He said, still gazing around. "But I am!" The answer came immediately and a woman appeared out of the darkness to his left. "Forget it, slave." Adam sighed and ran away. But the woman, he seemed to know very well, came after him. And not much later the chase ended under a bridge. Adam was hit by a bullet in his right leg, short under the knee. "You're not playing fair, Cassandra!" He yelled, hardly managing to stand up again. "You never did!" She raised her sword again and approached him, maybe too self-confident. Adam used a second of less concentration on her side and took his own sword, pointing at her. The wound in his leg was already healing and so he found firm footing again. "I still don't want to fight you." "And I still do! And this time there is no MacLeod who can save you." The woman by the name of Cassandra ran towards Adam and lifted her blade. But her attack wasn't powerful enough to trouble him seriously. Nevertheless she tried her best and he had his hands full with parry her strikes. Finally he kicked her into the stomach and she flew back, landing hard on her back on the street. Her sword came down two arm-lengths beside her, to far to reach it. So Adam dared leaning over her, whispering softly: "Give up, Cassandra. I didn't want to fight you, but less I want to kill you. I never did. You know, I loved you!" She seemed to be paralyzed for a moment - maybe with fear or with amaze. But only a second later, she drew her gun and pulled the trigger - fortunately - without aiming precisely. Adam was hit in the left shoulder and stumbled back. "Pity I don't believe you." She stood up grabbing her sword again. "And now speak a prayer if you want to, 'cause I'll take your head!" She lifted the blade, ready to do the final stroke. But when she lowered it, it was met by Adam's, who had managed to react in the nick of time. "Stop it, Cassandra!" A last attempt, but it was in vain the time it was said. She tried a new attack, that was parried again. Another strike - another meeting of iron. Finally she got tired and Adam used it to sink his sword deep into her stomach and twisted it. It caused a shrill scream, that made him turn around with disgust. "Forgive me." He whispered and drew the sword back. Cassandra fell on her knees bowing her head. "Do it!" She pressed the words out between clenched teeth. And Adam obeyed. A last time he raised the blade, and forced it down through her neck - collapsing on the ground his eyes filled with tears...  
  
...Chiara recovered with a terrible headache, first not knowing where she was. But soon she found out that she was lying on the floor of her bedroom. And she remembered her vision. 'Adam - Leonnard had killed a woman!' He had just beheaded her. 'Why?'  
  
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"You know nothing, MacLeod! You haven't been there. Did Joe tell you that she acted against the rules? Duncan, I had no choice!" Methos grabbed MacLeod's arm and forced him to put the sword down. The other hand reached for Duncan's chin, compelling him to meet his gaze. "I know, you loved her. I did myself. But... No, there's no excuse." Methos let go off him and turned around, slowly walking away, regretting having stayed that long. The Scot would never forgive him, he not even would accept it. But as fate always goes strange ways, MacLeod proved he was wrong. "Methos, wait!" His voice was loud, but soft. And before he could say another word Methos somehow knew, Duncan had already begun to at least try to forgive him. "Why did you run away, without even trying to explain it. I mean..." MacLeod fled the other's eyes. "Don't you think it would have been less painful for me if I had heard it from you - instead of Joe?" Methos sighed: "You want me to be honest, Highlander?!" "Yes." "Because I was tired of you blaming me for the world's meanness." Five thousand years of self-defense, but it didn't work. The expression on the Scot's face hurt even more than his words could ever do. He had certainly cut him to the quick, and he would repeat it if he didn't go. So he turned around and headed for the house's door. Suddenly a hand was placed on Methos shoulder and the unyielding touch forced him to turn around again. MacLeod just watched him, his mouth lightly open and the pain in his eyes had changed into something Methos couldn't identify yet. "What else?" Duncan didn't answer, but his grab tightened until it almost hurt. And all of a sudden Methos felt how a need he had fought back for so many years appeared again, searching its way right through his body and into his groin. He didn't know why it happened now, in this most untimely moment, but he couldn't help it. He had wanted Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod since they had first met, but he had never dared to show it. Instead he had suppressed it until he nearly believed he had never had those feelings. And now they were back. And this time he was not strong enough and gave in...  
  
The kiss took Duncan by complete surprise and he tried to resist it. 'What the hell he thinks he's doing?!' He pressed his lips together and his hands pushed Methos away. But as soon as their mouths were separated again he wanted it to goon. He had never thought about the other Immortal that way, and now he had to confess that it was a real attractive man standing in front of him, wanting him. But he wouldn't - couldn't let it happen! It neither was the right time, nor the right place. Damn, only ten minutes ago he was about to kill him! Methos stepped back, gazing at him without any expression than disbelieve. "I'm sorry." He said, but not a heartbeat later he retracted. "No, I'm not!" And another kiss was placed on Duncan's lips. It was hard and demanding, but at the same time so full of emotions that the Scot couldn't resist any longer and opened his mouth to let their tongues meet. Almost immediately his jeans became uncomfortably tight and with a groan he pulled Methos closer, sinking his hands into the other's short black hair. It felt so good...  
  
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They found their way upstairs kissing and touching each other, not getting enough. And as soon as they closed the door to the apartment behind them they started undressing, impatiently for what to come next. Methos' need was too overwhelming to wait until they would reach the bed. He wanted him badly, now, and he didn't care for the location anymore. The Highlander stood naked in front of him and his strong hands caressed his body with desire. Every touch sent waves of heat through the old Immortal and when MacLeod sank his teeth deep into the flesh of his sensitive neck, drawing blood, he could no longer hold back. Without any warning he turned him around, so his face met only the wall, and Methos hands searched their way down to last between the other's legs, and with one thrust he pushed a finger through the tight opening. MacLeod cried with pain and lust as he drove his finger in and out, not caring for the damage and blood it caused. Finding the most sensitive spot he massaged it roughly, what brought another cry, this time definitely with passion. Methos was painfully hard now and he knew he wouldn't stand it much longer. So he hurried preparing the Scot with adding another two fingers at once, stretching the ring of muscles until he decided it had to be enough. And with one hard thrust he replaced his fingers with his cock. There was no teasing, no waiting until the other man would relax to the sudden invasion. 'No time...' MacLeod was pushed against the wall, again and again, every time Methos shove back inside him. But he didn't complain. Instead his breath shortened and his skin became wet with drops of sweat. Methos knew he was close, too. And so he reached around him to take his cock in his hand, stroking its length in time with his own movements. He met him and pressed his hips back to get Methos even deeper inside and also to intensify the pressure on his own aching need. Finally MacLeod groaned when his orgasm sent shivers through his entire body and he released, sending streams of cum over the other's hand and the wallpaper. And with it his muscles clenched, forcing Methos over the edge, too. He came, emptying himself inside Duncan's hot body, stifling a cry by burying his face into the space between his shoulder and neck...  
  
Totally exhausted they had both collapsed on the bed. But Methos fought back the urge to rest. Sure, it had been incredible and he had wanted it so much for such a long time, but there was still Chiara waiting for him. And she needed him. He had to go back to her, even if it meant to leave his newfound lover again. He had no other choice. When he was sure MacLeod had dropped off, he carefully stood up and got ready to leave. With a regretting smile he opened the door, looked back at the Scot and promised him and also himself to get back as soon as possible to repeat what they'd just done - not without adding, that it would be less rough the next time. Provided that there would be another time...  
  
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It was after midnight and Chiara had decided there would be no chance for her to get any sleep by now. So she headed for the kitchen to have a cup of tea. The water had just began to boil when a knock at her door broke the silence around her. "Who is it?" She asked, more cautious than necessary. "It's me, O'Coerky." 'Sure, who else...' She opened the door and let him in without saying a word. He smiled at her, and she recognized a strange gleam in his eyes that changed the hazel she knew into shining gold. But for she had no idea what it meant she didn't concentrate on it any longer. And besides there was another thing, she had to find out first. O'Coerky dropped into the couch as every time. But as soon as he lay down there he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Chiara just stared at him, not knowing how to react. She had wanted to talk with him about what she had seen in her vision before, had wanted to ask if it was really true - but now she didn't even dare to move, afraid of waking him. He looked so innocent and the satisfied smile around his lips gave him the face of a sleeping baby. No, she couldn't disturb him. So it would have to wait 'till the next morning to talk with him. 'Fine...' With her favorite cup full of tea, Chiara placed herself on the armchair. She had a good look at O'Coerky this way. And she stayed there, only watching, until the sun rose again.  
  
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"G'morning!" Methos mumbled. He had just waken up, discovering Chiara, who had fallen asleep in the armchair. It had to be around ten, 'cause the sun shone brightly through the window. The girl stretched her limbs and yawned. She looked as if the night wasn't very long for her, and Methos wondered how long she had stayed awake after he arrived. He felt guilty for falling asleep that soon the last night. Maybe he should have paid more attention on her, but he had been too tired. Thinking about what had made him this exhausted, he had to smile. But again the doubts appeared. MacLeod was probably back in Paris by now, hating him even more... "Adam - I mean, Leonnard. I want to talk with you." The pain in her voice pulled him away from the thoughts, but caused his inner alarm to ring. Whatever she was about to tell or ask him it wouldn't please him. "You mind me having a shower and a cup of coffee first?" He asked innocently and with his best Adam-Pierson-couldn't-kill-a-fly-look. She lightly shook her head. "No, maybe it's better your way. I'll be here." "Okay. I'll hurry." Well, no, not really.  
  
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The time he got back from his shower and got dressed, Methos heard a knock at the door and how Chiara opened it. He gazed concerned out of the bathroom, letting out a deep sigh, when it was only Joe who came in. That would hopefully let Chiara forget whatever she wanted to talk about. Provided it was good news.  
  
"Good morning, Joe! You like a cup of coffee? Leonnard should be here in a second." Chiara smiled at the man. She really liked him, although she had only met him the day before. But he reminded her very much on her father, who had died two years ago. Like him, Joe was a person who cared for other people, who you trusted the first moment and who would never betray you. "Good idea." Joe smiled back and followed her to the kitchen. It didn't take long and O'Coerky joined them, sitting on a chair and taking the offered cup: "Thanks!" "You're welcome." Chiara watched him, and somehow she couldn't believe that he was the murderer she had seen in her vision. But she knew better, and she wanted him to tell her why he had done it. But however it wouldn't be easy, neither for him nor for her. And what about Joe...? No, now or never! "I told you before, we need to talk." She faced O'Coerky, ignoring Joe's surprised expression. She just concentrated on the addressed man, and suddenly he put the cup down, staring at her. "Well, what's up?" He asked with a sad smile, closing his eyes for a short moment. Chiara wasn't sure how to begin, and as if searching for help she looked at Joe, but he only shrugged his shoulders, questioning. 'Right, he has no idea what this is about...' Finally she decided to just ask what she needed to know: "Why did you kill her?" "Who?" "Cassandra!"  
  
"No, not one more..." Methos couldn't believe it. How did she know of Cassandra? 'Her visions. - But why now?' The last evening had been hard enough. He didn't want to be remembered on Cassandra - and less he wanted to be questioned about his reasons. Shit, he had killed the first Immortal he had loved! And it had taken him more than two years not to dream of it anymore. So why now? Methos shook his head and stood up. He could feel both of them watching him with confusion. But he didn't want to talk about it right now. He had to leave! 'Should Joe tell her the whole fucking story! He's good at it...' And so he went out of the apartment and slammed the door loudly. It was all he could do not to scream or cry...  
  
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Duncan woke up - alone, in a bed he didn't know. 'What the hell...' His head ached, as did other parts of his body. And slowly his memories came back. His sword on Methos' neck... Methos kissing him... Methos' slender body against his own... Methos inside him... 'Shit!' He quickly got out of the bed and grabbed his clothes. 'This can't be true! How could I sleep with him?' He was definitely angry now, he hated himself for what had happened. And to get rid of his aggressions he beat hard against the wall. He could feel his knuckles break, but so what, they would heal. Worse was his mental state. What had made him forget who he had been with? First, it had been a man - and second, it had been Methos! Or maybe it had been Death, and Death had raped him... Yeah, that made it easier to accept. But no, Duncan had known exactly what he was doing. And it felt right the last night, but not this morning! Now he hated Methos even more, for he had shown him the depths of his soul, his innermost longings. And he had stopped him from taking the revenge he owed Cassandra... Duncan suddenly felt how shame rose inside him, and he didn't intend to let the other Immortal see him in this state. He would be gone before Methos came back. Otherwise he would probably kill him this time!  
  
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The apartment was empty, as expected. Although Methos had hoped until he opened the door that MacLeod would still be there, waiting for him... But somehow he had known different long before he got close to the building. And when he didn't feel the other's presence, he was not really surprised. Methos dropped into the bed - it still smelled of the Highlander. 'Stop it!' He told himself. 'Maybe you should just pretend that the last few days weren't real, old man. Close your eyes and try to sleep. You'll wake up and everything is as it used to be... - sounds good!' He had to smile. This way of solving problems had worked very well during the last five or six centuries. Hopefully it would work this time, too. But he knew it wouldn't. 'Nevertheless, if you try hard enough...!?'  
  
"Methos!"  
  
The old Immortal opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, not daring to look around. Had there been someone calling him? No, just his imagination.  
  
"Methos!"  
  
Again. This time he sat up and automatically his hand searched for his sword. But he couldn't see anybody. He was alone. 'I must go crazy!' He shook his head hard, as if it could chase away the strange voice. Futile.  
  
"Methos! I'm here. Look at me!"  
  
TO BE CONTINUED... 


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